


Then and Now

by UraharaSteph



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Comedy, Conflict, Drama, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fun, Love, Monsters, Occult, Past and Present, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:26:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25452355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UraharaSteph/pseuds/UraharaSteph
Summary: The year is 2012 but the shadow of the past still clings to you; suffocating you with bittersweet memories and broken promises.You can't move forward.You're stagnating in the sleepy town of Gravity Falls.Thank heavens for those pesky Pines twins! Both sets of them.
Relationships: Dipper Pines & Mabel Pines & Reader, Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Ford Pines/Reader, Stan Pines/Reader, Stanford Pines/Reader, Stanley Pines/Reader
Comments: 13
Kudos: 26





	1. The Blob

**Author's Note:**

> This piece uses (Name) and (Last Name) in place of your first name and last name respectively.  
> This fic will be switching between 2012 and 1975+ Each chapter will indicate what year it takes place in at the beginning.  
> I'm in two minds about writing smut for this story, so feedback on what the reader's want would be greatly appreciated!

[2012]

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”

The twins were small but fast. Stan wasn't far behind them. You, on the other hand, were out of breath and lagging dangerously behind. Your screams died in the back of your throat and an exposed root pulled you onto the forest floor with a loud **THUMP**.

Dipper clutched his battered journal close and chanced a glance behind him. He saw you fumbling in the moss, desperate to get back on your feet. 

“Old Widow (Name)! Grunkle Stan, do something!” Dipper had already started to double-back on himself.

“She's a big girl! She'll be fine!” Stan shouted as he dodged out of Dipper's way. 

The kid shot his great uncle a disturbed look, but he had to focus on the crisis at hand. He tucked the book away when he reached you and started to help you up. 

Curse being old! There was a time when you could outrun any kooky spooky thing in these darned woods-

“(Name)! Get out the way!”

Dipper had just helped you up and now he was shoving you into a bush of thorns for your own good. The branches scratched at your wrinkled skin and blood trickled down your arms. “Dipper! Don't be a hero!” Your growl came too late.

The large blob of gelatine pounced on Dipper. It was a huge glob of purple, the size of a building. You could see Dipper's small form sink into the depths of the beast's... belly? You plucked yourself out of the brambles and shouted out to the others. 

“Stan! Mabel! Dipper is-” 

To your surprise, Stan was already in front of the dripping creature. The moment Dipper was in danger, the old man pulled through to protect his great-nephew. 

“Listen up, Slimeball! You're going to regurgitate my nephew right now or- or feel the wrath of my stick! Haaaaaa-” Stan raised his eight-ball staff into the air. The blob flung a bit of gunk into his face, triggering Stan's attack. “YAAAAAAAA!” 

The eight-ball made a direct hit! 

“Yes!” You cheered, catching Stan's attention for a minute an earning a cocky smile from him. 

Unfortunately, a stick with a prophetic ball glued to the top wasn't an effective weapon against a giant lump of jelly. Stan tried to pull the stick out of the creature, but the purple blob just swallowed it and Stan was forced to retreat. 

Stan stared in disbelief. “Welp. I'm outta ideas. Run!” He grabbed your wrist and dragged you back onto the dirt track.

Your heart ordered you to struggle against Stan. Dipper needed all the help he could get. Your brain and body was having none of that heroic stupidity. Your legs were completely on board with Stan's plan of running for your life. “Stan! You can't just leave Dipper in there! He'll run out of air!”

“I'm thinking! I'm thinking!” He roared. 

Mabel, who had escaped your view a while back, was now running back in your direction. The direction of the gloopy beast! Beside her was Soos, the face of a warrior etched onto his features. 

Stan held up his free hand, urging the duo to stop. “Whoa whoa whoa! Pumpkin, you gotta get outta here!” 

“No!” Mabel ran past the both of you. “That thing ate my brother, so now I'm going to eat **IT**! ARRRRRRRH!” The girl flicked her wrists and out slid a spoon from each sleeve, dropping into her palms like an expert ninja. 

Soos trudged behind, his own spoons at the ready. 

You and Stan slowed down. “What?!” You yelped.

“Oh! Hello Ol' Widow (Name)!” Soos gave you a polite smile, but why did everyone in town have to refer to you as the 'old widow'?! “I was just out for a walk when I ran into Mabel. She told me that a giant glob of grape-flavoured gelatine was in the neighbourhood and that I should totally come and help her eat it!”

Stan pointed at the cutlery. “Where did the spoons come from?”

Soos scoffed. “C'mon Mr Pines, are you telling me you _don't_ carry emergency spoons with you everywhere? Seriously, you're really ill prepared if you don't.”

“I, er,” Stan looked at you for back up, but you were already twirling your emergency spoon between your fingers.

The three of you watched Mabel dig her utensils into the gelatinous blob. It gargled in pain and tried to absorb her, but she was nimble and evaded its slow and sloppy swipes. Soos pointed to the scene. “Er, I better go help her get it. Later dudes.” 

You looked at Stan. “Come on. We better help out too. You can borrow my secondary emergency spoon.” 

He took it off you reluctantly. “Hm. Thanks, but if you think I'm eating anything of an unknown origin with twigs sticking out of it, then you are greatly mistaken.”

“It's for Dipper!” You pleaded, but the stubborn old man crossed his arms. “Urgh, and it's _free_ food.”

His eyes lit up at that. “Free. Food... _free_. Alright, I'm in.” 

With a shared war cry, all four of you were soon gobbling up the gelatine-based-beast that swallowed Dipper.

~*~

Later on at the Mystery Shack, everyone had cleaned themselves up and bellies were near bursting. That was quite enough adventure for you for one day. You were far too old for this. It seemed you could never approach the Mystery Shack without getting entangled with some whacky, other-wordly conundrums. 

You were looking for your handbag when you entered the backroom. 

Dipper was flailing his arms at Stan who had stripped down to his vest and boxers. Not the prettiest sight. “Grunkle Stan! You can't tell me that thing _wasn't_ supernatural!”

Stan opened a soda and slumped into his chair. “Listen kid, that was what pollution is doing to our planet. Don't litter.” A poignant moral. Or it would have been if he didn't down the contents of his can in one gulp. Burp, then toss the can onto the floor.

Dipper's face was flat. “Then why was it grape-flavoured?!”

“We get tasteful pollution out here in the wilds. None of that city pollution that tastes like pigeon shi- er, poop.” 

Dipper curled up into a ball of frustrated grunting. 

You stepped around him carefully as you approached Stan. “Right. Well now all that business with the sentient gelatine is out of the way, can we get back to why I came over here, please?”

Stan avoided eye contact. “Er, right. Somethin' about wanting a souvenir?”

“Something about lending you a DVD. I leant you that film in good faith and you've had it for months. It's time to give it back.”

“I haven't watched it yet, so let me keep hold of it for a while longer?”

“Liar. Something's happened to it, hasn't it! I swear, if you've ruined my disc- EEP!”

Mabel appeared between the two of you. “What film was it, Ms (Last Name)?” 

You patted Mabel's head. She was a sweet but strange girl. It was a mystery how she and Dipper were related to Stan. Yet, when you thought about the bigger picture, things sort of made sense. “It's called 'The Girl with the Dragon fists'.” 

Mabel blinked. “That sounds... AWESOME! I want dragon fists! Pew, pew!” Like that, the girl was bouncing off of the walls pretending she had dragons for fists. She punched away into another room.

You were back to interrogating Stan. “Well?”

“I told ya, I haven't watched it yet! Geeze, get off my back. You can have it when I'm done with it.”

“It's been months, Stan! I'm starting to think you've sold it.”

Stan groaned and peeled himself out of his chair. “You know full well I would never sell any of your junk.”

“I _don't_ know that. Let me at least see it.”

“You what now?” Stan stumbled backwards and you filled his footsteps.

“Let me see it.”

“Ahaha, w-why're you treating this like a hostage situation? Your dumb DVD is fine.”

“Then prove it.”

“I don't have to prove anything to you.” Stan's eyebrows drew together and a menacing glare fixed his face. He wasn't going to back down from this. 

“OOOOH!” Mabel had reappeared brandishing a slim case. You recognised those colours and images immediately.

Stan's eyebrows rose into his fez. “Where did you find that?!”

“It was buried under a pile of broken things in a box labelled 'whoops'. This actually looks like a really good film! Why don't we all watch it together now?” She began to pry it open.

Stan jolted forward. “No! Kid! Wait!”

Three pieces of shimmering plastic fell onto the grubby rug. You covered your mouth in shock, but let's face it, you really weren't surprised. However, it still hurt. Why couldn't this man just be truthful with you? You would have been less angry if he had just told you he had broken it rather than avoid the topic for months on end. 

You folded your arms across your chest and watched Stan sweat in his greasy vest.

“Look, (Name), I really don't know how this happened but I'm sorry. I'll, er, get you a new one.”

You sighed. “Stan, why don't you just tell me what happened? Could you not figure out how to use the DVD player again?” Looking around the room, you couldn't even see the device. Perhaps he had chucked it out in a rage. 

“I just told you I don't know how it happened.”

Stubborn as ever. “... Fine. Don't worry about getting me a new one.” You knew it was an empty gesture. He wouldn't spend money on a replacement. He'd probably just get Soos to glue it back together and pretend he bought it, or find some knock-off version.

You went back to looking for your handbag. “Has anyone seen my-” Stan held it out to you, an innocent smile on his face which was horrifically suspicious on him. “Um, thanks.” You'd count your bills, twice, later. For now it was time to go home. You were tired and now grumpy and upset. “I'm off then. It's been nice to see you, kids. Make sure you annoy the hell out of your Grunkle for me.”

“We will!” Mabel cheered and Dipper had an agreeable smirk. 

You glanced at Stan. “Goodbye, Stan.”

“Yeah, whatever. Make sure Soos gives you a lift home.” 

When you had left, Dipper and Mabel watched Soos drive you away from the window. Dipper scratched his head under his hat and scurried back to Stan. “Hey, Grunkle Stan, what's the deal with you and the Old Widow?”

“Mm? (Name)?” His pupils were glued to the television, another Pitt Soda clamped in his hand.

“Yeah. You're pretty mean to her but she still seems to tolerate you.”

“It's called charisma, kid. Not everyone's got it. I mean, ha, you certainly haven't.” He chuckled to himself and Dipper pouted. 

“Ugh. I don't get it. I mean, today she came back for her DVD which makes sense, but she's been coming back here so often because she keeps 'accidentally' leaving things here.” Dipper turned away from Stan and started to flick through his trusty journal. Dipper had decided you must have been under a spell. 

“Oh? The forgetting things is genuine. Well, fake genuine.”

Dipper snapped his book closed and put it away again. “What do you mean? 'Fake genuine'?” Like a magician, Stan produced **your** library card. Dipper cocked his head. “She left her library card here?”

“Meh, sort of.”

“You... YOU STOLE HER LIBRARY CARD?!”

Stan waved his hands to try and shush Dipper. “Keep it down, kid!”

“Grunkle Stan! Why would you do that?! That's so messed up on so many levels! You're making her think she's accidentally leaving things here when you're just pick-pocketing her?! Why? What's the point?” 

Stan's body hunched in on itself. “That's none of your business.” 

Dipper was confused. “This sounds... really convoluted. Grunkle Stan, do you like (Name)?”

“Beat it kid, I can't hear the TV!”

Dipper stood in front of the flashing box. “You do, don't you? Look, I might not know an awful lot about girls-”

“You can say that again,”

“-but this doesn't feel right at all. I think you should go and return the card and explain what you've been doing.”

“Not going to happen, kid.”

“Then I'll go and do it myself!” Dipper sought out Mabel, who was trying to make plastic eyeballs stick to her eyelids. “Come on Mabel. We've got to tell The Widow that Grunkle Stan has been screwing with her.”

The eyeballs dropped to the floor and rolled away. “Huh? Wait, is something going on between Stan and (Name)?! EEEEEEEK! YES! I KNEW IT!”

Dipper shook his head. “He's been stealing her stuff to try and lure her back here.”

Mabel cringed. “That's... that's...” Then her eyes began to sparkle. “That's not a bad idea!”

“Mabel!”

“Oops, sorry. No, that's just wrong. You should go and apologise or else she'll never like you.” Mabel stood resolute.

Stan stomped over to the twins. “Alright, alright! I'll go. Geeze, can't even steal a library card any more. Get it into your thick skulls though, I ain't got a thing for her.” He slammed his bedroom door behind him and picked out a somewhat clean outfit. 

~*~

Stan was terrified. He was parked outside of your house. Fingers drummed against the steering wheel. He wiped the sweat off his brow and decided to lose the fez. When had he last come to your house? He had no problem coaxing you back to the shack in nefarious ways and dealing with you there, but that's because you were in _his_ zone. 

This house was yours. You ruled the roost here. That made him feel uncomfortable and an outsider. 

Stanley let out a long breath. He glanced down at your library card, flicking it back and forth between his fingers. He took a moment to admire the grainy photograph of you. You were a fair few years younger in the image. Stan couldn't help but smile. 

Alright. Enough procrastination. How had the kids talked him into doing this?

He got out of his car, straightened his back and grimaced at the clicks and pains that rung from it. Stan knocked at your door. A crooked smile on his lips. 

“... Stan?”

“Hey. Er, I've got this.” He handed you the library card.

You rubbed your furrowed brow. “I keep leaving things at yours. I must be losing my mind. Sorry Stan. It was sweet of you to bring it over yourself for me though.” Your kindest smile lit up your face and touched your eyes. 

Stan's heart trembled in his chest. You were perfect in his view. Way out of his league. You deserved to know the truth; that he had been deliberately nicking things from you in order to see you again. Yet that gorgeous face of yours trapped him within his own words. 

“Heh, it was nothing.” Stan rubbed the back of his head and gave you a sheepish smile. “I know you read to the kids at the library on Thursdays. Gotta have your card for that.” 

“O-oh, I didn't realise you knew about that.” You cleared your throat. “Did you want to come in for a cup of tea? I have a few things I want to ask you.”

“Oh?” He perked up.

“Like; were you really going to leave me for dead in that big blob's belly?” 

“Oh.”

You grabbed his arm and dragged him into the house. He wasn't getting out of this and now the kids weren't around you could really lay into the bastard!

The first step into your abode was like stepping into hell for Stan. There were photo's on the wall of your family. Photo's of your daughter didn't incite any discomfort in Stan. In fact, those were the photo's that filled him with warmth. 

However, the hard eyes of Richard, your deceased husband, bore into him. Those photos were dreadful. Still, there was one photo that was the absolute worst. Tucked away out of sight of most guests was a very faded photograph with sun-worn spots spoiling it.

A picture of Stanford Pines. 

Stan frowned.


	2. Treepires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The year is 1975 and you're out in the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Placeholders used; (Name) and (Last Name).

[1975]

_Click! Snap!_

It was therapeutic; twigs breaking beneath your feet. The way the brittle bark gave way to your boots. Yes, it created a beautifully crisp sound. You drew in a breath, flooding your lungs with wafts of pine and earth.

You clung to your sketchbook as you ventured forth in search of an idyllic and inspirational spot. There was an entire spectrum of browns and greens surrounding you, but you were after _more_. Vibrant wildflowers and trickling streams, or perhaps a rainbow framing the falls. Something worthy of being the backdrop of a children's book.

Eventually you found a clearing where the sun filtered through the leaves and sporadic flowers aspired towards the heavens. Butterflies danced to the cheery birdsong while squirrels busied themselves with nuts.

Perfect. There was even a rotting log in the best spot for you to perch on. It must have been destiny.

You sat down and opened to a blank page. A contented sigh slipped out as peace embraced you.

_”AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”_

And it's gone.

You lifted your head up and saw a man dart through the trees with a crazed look in his eyes. “Run for your life!”

Before you could note anything else about the stranger, a vicious shadow emerged. The sun hit it, illuminating it's perpetually swirling eyes of red and yellow. It hissed and ducked partially back into the shade.

Your body froze. You could not pry yourself away from those unholy eyes.

“Oh, for pete's sake,” The man grabbed you by the arm and dragged you behind him.

The book and pencil fell into the decaying pine needles at your feet. Eye contact with the beast was broken! So naturally you looked back at it straight away to check what it actually was.

You screamed. “That tree has a face!”

“Yes it's shocking, I know, but for now could you please focus on escaping?!”

Tree-face clawed its way after you. Its roots tore up the ground and it's branches stretched out to try and grab you and the stranger. You avoided its eyes at all costs but its hollow mouth was just as mesmerising. It was a spiked hole of darkness guarded by two wooden fangs.

The man jerked your wrist demanding you keep your eyes on the trail ahead. He didn't look at you when he spoke. “We must lure it out into the full brunt of daylight, do you understand?”

“No?!”

“Just do it!”

“Okay!”

The stranger let go of your arm and you followed his lead as best as you could. You leapt over all sorts of forest detritus, from fallen trees and jagged rocks to fly-tipped junk and dazed raccoons.

Although your life was in mortal danger, a large grin had worked its way onto your face. This was exciting! “Hey, mister! do you think that thing is too scary for a children's book?!”

The man shot you a confused glance; mouth opening and closing as he couldn't find the right words.

A roar from behind spurred you both on to leave the topic for later- if there was a later.

The treeline came into view and adrenaline pushed you on. Together you burst free of the shadows and so did the terrifying tree! Unfortunately for it but fortunately for you, as the golden light fully engulfed the bark-coated beast, it screeched and burst into flames.

Within seconds it had been reduced to ash and charcoal. The scent of burnt firewood was left to drift in the air and you took a moment to savour it. The creature's corpse collapsed into a heap that would simply be mistaken for an old campfire. Some embers still licked the blackened wood.

You put a hand over your mouth and wrapped an arm around your stomach. Your body twitched from a mix of fear and exhilaration. “Oh my god,”

The strange man was doubled over with his hands on his thighs as he regained his breath. “Ugh, if this is- if this is going to be a regular thing, I- I need to get fitter.”

He straightened up and dusted off the sleeves of his long-coat. He was a brunette with chocolate eyes to match. Under his coat he wore a white shirt, black tie and black trousers with a tear above the left ankle. He fixed his spectacles and blinked a few times. While he did that you thought something seemed weird about his hands.

“Oh-” You jumped when you spotted the abnormality.

“Hm?” He looked at you curiously and you turned away, embarrassed by your own reaction. He stared down at his hands and quickly clasped them behind his back. Out of sight, out of mind. He cleared his throat. “Well then, I'm glad we got out of that alive. I shall leave you to your day, Madam.”

“Wait!” He wasn't going anywhere, you needed answers. “What- what was that?”

He was reluctant to stay but you were far too befuddled for him to abandon. “...I haven't figured that out yet. It appears to be a sentient tree with hypnotic eyes and a thirst for blood. I hypothesised that it is some sort of... Tree-vampire hybrid.”

You gasped. “A Treepire.”

“Or a Vampee,” The man offered.

“How did you know the sunlight would kill it?”

“Ah,” He rubbed the side of his neck. “It was actually a guess. It stuck to the shadows and then hissed when it entered too much sunlight. I figured, hey, if daylight kills normal vampires then it might kill Treepires too.” He raised an eyebrow at himself. He was already adopting your name for the blasted thing.

“Well, the main point is; we survived thanks to you.” You gave him a gracious smile and held out your hand to him. “I'm (Name) (Last Name).”

He hesitated, searched your eyes for maliciousness, then timidly took your hand in his. Yep, definitely six fingers. Not a problem at all, it had just taken you by surprise when you first saw the extra appendage. You shook his hand firmly.

His palm was sweaty.

“Stanford Pines.” Stanford pocketed his hand as soon as you let go.

“So, are you usually chased by nightmare fuel?”

He cracked a smile. “Only since moving here.”

“You're not from Gravity Falls? Neither am I! I moved here last year. Was sort of hoping that out in the sticks there'd be nothing to distract me from my work. I was right, but I was also lacking inspiration thanks to its vast nothingness.”

“Nothingness? Are you kidding me? This place is the epicentre of unnatural, paranormal phenomenon!” Stanford spread out his arms and merrily gestured to everything around you. “How have you lived here an entire year and not- OW!” He crumpled.

You quickly steadied him. “You okay, Stanford?”

“My leg,”

You both looked down at his left leg. The bit of flesh peeking through the torn trousers was bloodied. Badly. You immediately dropped to one knee to study the extent of the injury. You carefully rolled up his trouser-leg and exposed a profound bite mark.

“Looks like something bit you.”

“Oh no...” Stanford mumbled. He patted various pockets and pulled out a number of scraggy papers. Stanford favoured his right leg as he read over his collection of notes.

You frowned. “Was it the Treepire?”

“I'm afraid so.” Stanford rubbed his forehead, eyes glued to his notes. “I mustn't have realised it earlier due to the adrenaline.”

“Are you going to turn into a tree?! Or a vampire?!”

“No, no, this isn't like a werewolf bite. However, I remember a little fellow I ran into last month, I think he was a Gnome, telling me about cursed bites. It all sounded like utter nonsense at the time, but I noted it anyway. I'm sure he said something about tree bites being cursed.”

Scraps of parchment fell to the ground as he flitted through them desperately. You couldn't help but catch one. Random phrases and ramblings about unicorns possibly being real in a secret garden covered the page. If it hadn't been for the living tree that just ran you out of the woods, you would have thought this man was a classic nutjob.

“Ah ha!” Stanford held up a note in triumph. “Oh, would you mind collecting up those pages for me? I really wouldn't like to lose them. Now, let's see...”

“A please would be nice.” You grumbled but began to gather everything up. You'd let him off this once; he could be in danger so manners weren't exactly a priority.

He either didn't hear what you said or outright ignored it. He was too engrossed in reading. “... Just as I thought.” Stanford sounded doleful.

“Bad news?”

“If I don't apply sap from the Tree's nest onto the bite within 5 hours, I will rot from the inside out. It doesn't specify if this applies to Treepire wounds, but I figure Treepires fall under the umbrella of 'cursed trees'.”

Stanford accepted his notes off you and put them into the hideaways of his coat. He snatched a large branch off the ground and tested it as a walking stick. Then batted it against his palm to see if it had enough weight to double as a weapon, just in case.

“It's been nice meeting you, (Name). Perhaps we will run into each other again sometime?” He gave you a lopsided smile.

Now, you could be mistaken and you hoped you were, but it _sounded_ like the fool was about to venture back into the forest on his own. With a damaged limb. With nothing but a stick.

“No need to say goodbye yet, we've got to get that sap for you.”

“ _'We'_?” Stanford's eyebrows almost kissed. There hadn't been a 'we' for him since... a good while ago. “You're not suggesting _you_ come on this expedition, are you?”

Your voice shrunk. “Well, yeah? The more the merrier, right?”

Stanford's expression softened. “It'll be dangerous.”

“All the more reason to have someone to watch your back.”

“I may not be able to protect you in my current state.”

“I can handle myself.”

“I prefer to do these things **alone**.”

“And I prefer limping men not to do stupid things **_alone_**.”

“You would risk yourself for a complete stranger?”

“My sketchbook is in there too. Two birds, one stone.”

“...” Stanford was the first to break eye contact. “Alright. You can come,” He added something under his breath that you didn't catch; _“Maybe it'll be nice to have a partner again.”_

“Thanks Stanford! Lead the way!”

Perhaps you were a bit too eager for this adventure, but who could blame you? You had grown up in a world where nothing out of the ordinary happened. Being chased by a Treepire?! Not exactly what you had imagined as a kid, but hey, it was a dream come true to be chased by a supernatural being of any kind.

~*~

You and Stanford had been exploring the forest for hours. In that time, you told him about yourself. Your family, where you originally came from, school days and useless titbits such as your favourite colour and genres of music.

Then you said something that piqued Stanford's interest further. “So you're an author?” He asked.

“Well, sort of.” You scratched your cheek. “I'm trying to write a children's book. Writing and illustrating it, if I can. Most importantly, I want to have intriguing characters and mysterious monsters.”

Stanford chuckled. “You were certainly drawn to the right place then. Gravity Falls is packed with both of those things.”

“What brought you here, Ford?”

Stanford's limping stride missed a step. “ _'Ford'_?”

You grimaced. Was he going to tell you off for shortening his name? “Is it okay if I call you that?”

He didn't seem okay with it. Even so, he said “... Yes. Most people shorten my name to Stan. You caught me off guard, that's all.”

“I guess I don't want to blend in with 'most people'.”

You were focused on where you were putting your feet, but Ford was looking at you more and more. “You're standing out well so far.” He reassured. “Anyway, to answer your earlier question, I'm a Paranormal Investigator.”

“Whoa, really?!”

This was quite possibly the first time Ford had impressed a woman who wasn't his own mother. He held his chin up high. “Yes, really.”

“So, it's your job to seek out things like Treepires? Is someone _actually_ paying you to do that?”

“My research is funded, yes. With expenses paid. Mostly.”

“You know, for a scientist,” Was he a scientist? You supposed he was if he got paid to run around like Dr Who. “Your notes are really disorganised.”

Stanford's eyes gleamed. “Funny you should mention that. I was thinking about compiling my research into a journal. It's important to document my findings, especially if I want to be hailed as one of the greats-”

Before Stanford could spin into a passionate explanation of his work and aspirations, a vine-like branch whipped out of the underbrush. It snapped itself around Ford's right ankle and swept upwards. He barely hit the ground before being yanked into a thicket.

“Ford!” The panic started.

You chased after him, using his yelled expletives as a guide. Brambles tugged at your clothes and tore your skin, but none of that mattered. You had to _think_. What was a normal vampire's weaknesses?

Daylight, yes, but the thick canopy of leaves overhead made sure that wasn't an option. A steak through the heart? Did Treepires have hearts and if they did, would a wooden steak even work against a wooden vampire? What else-

You caught a whiff of something. _Wild garlic_. It was in a different direction, but there was no point catching up to Stanford if you had nothing to help fight off the Treepire.

“Hold on, Ford!” A swift change of course propelled you towards the ultimate weapon; Garlic.

Meanwhile, Stanford was being lugged about by a Treepire. When he got tired of screaming and swearing, he began to look for his pen and paper. Might as well take notes on the creature while it dragged him to ( _hopefully_ ) its nest.

This one was smaller than the other. A female, perhaps? It also didn't have swirling, hypnotic eyes. Was this a trait that only some of its kind possessed? Ford jotted down his theories. Of course he would try to escape, but only when there was a ripe opportunity. There was absolutely no point in exhausting himself on futile attempts, especially with an injury.

**THWACK!**

Unluckily for Ford, he hadn't factored in the chance his skull would bash into a giant rock, knocking him out cold and rendering him unable to escape. That was exactly what happened. His pen and paper dropped from his limp fingers and he silently disappeared into the foliage.

~*~

“This should do.” You muttered to yourself, hoarding as much garlic as physically possible and rubbing it over you. “God I hope that thing has left a trail...”

There was no time to waste. If you weren't quick enough, the Treepire would drain Stanford's blood. If you weren't quick enough, the rot-bite would kill Stanford. No pressure or anything.

“Come on. You've got this,” You told yourself then dashed back into the fray.

You went in the direction you were pretty sure the creature had barrelled off in, but shrubs and trees all looked the same. It was hard to spot landmarks like 'the big tree' when all the landmarks were big trees.

Something crinkled under you step.

A piece of paper! You were on the right route; this note was definitely the ramblings of Stanford Pines being dragged into the depths of the forest by a blood-sucking tree. You read over what he'd scribbled. Anything that could give you an advantage would help. “No hypnotic eyes, eh? Good. That's one less thing I have to worry about. Hold on Ford, I'm coming.”

~*~

When you came across the Treepire's nest, you were taken aback by the fact that it was a literal bird's nest. A giant one. On the ground. With Stanford lying in the middle of it and the Treepire towering over him, already slurping his plasma through its disgusting, hairy roots.

“STANDFORD!”

_**HIIIISSSSSSSSSSSSS!** _

The Treepire turned to you and released Stanford from its grasp. It was a stupid creature. It didn't evaluate you or smell the air before it lunged in your direction. It bared its wooden fangs and the gaping abyss of its mouth was already on you before you could blink.

You tossed the garlic into its throat.

The Treepire's life flashed before its fading eyes. The soul in the wood died, leaving behind a monster-shaped log. It tumbled to the ground in... honestly, a really anti-climatic way.

“... DAMN! I should have said something cool like, 'eat this' or 'that was a clove one' or... yeah, no, none of these are cool.”

Time was still of the essence. Pushing aside your absolute lame attempts at a good pun, you jumped into the nest and saw Stanford's paling body. First thing was first, locate the sap for his wound.

Conveniently, there was a large, goopy pile of sap just outside of the ring. Wait, was that its poop?! Ah well, it wasn't your wounds it was being wiped into. You dabbed a big leaf into the sap and applied it to Stanford's wound generously.

Once every inch of the bite was covered, you sat on your haunches.

Nothing happened.

“... Ford?” You touched his face. He was cold. “Ford?!” You tried to shake him awake.

Nothing happened.

What did people do in these situations?! Your hands began to tremble. You couldn't let him die!

The next thing that popped into your head was;

“The kiss of life.”

You stared at his face. Under the circumstances, you weren't thinking about how handsome he was or how delightful his lips would feel against yours. No, you were blind to all that on account of him possibly being dead.

You inhaled, pinched his nose and the moment your lips pushed upon his, cheeks still puffed out, Ford's eyes shot open.

Both of you went as stiff as a stiff.

“... Couf you geff off, pleafe?”

You sprung away from him, face beetroot red. “S-sorry! I-I thought you were dead!”

Ford was blushing as well. It was a relief to see the colour return to his cheeks. He sat up and adjusted his glasses.

“... I have a girlfriend.” That extremely irrelevant statement was made in a tone that silently added _'and she's definitely real'_.

“O-oh? Um... okay, I don't doubt that,”

“She's a Siren-”

“I wasn't kissing you! I really, really thought you were dead or dying!”

“Okay, okay, I'm just forewarning that Sirens are very jealous beings.” Stanford hid behind his six fingers. How had this become so awkward? It was him. He was making it awkward like he does every encounter with a female. Ford cleared his throat and psyched himself up enough to meet your eyes. “Thank you, for saving my life.”

“I-it was nothing.”

“No, no, I really owe you one.”

You were about to brush off what he said, but there was something he could help you with. “Well, um, seeing as you owe me one. You know how I'm looking for fantastical beasts as inspiration for my children's books? Could you, um, take me with you on your next expedition, please? I think I've proved I could be useful to have around.”

“You've certainly proved that.” Stanford stroked his chin in consideration. “A-and this is as friends, correct? Not... anything... more?”

“Just friends, I promise.” You wiggled your fingers to show you weren't crossing any.

You didn't know if it was a trick of the light, but despite Ford's next words, he looked a little disappointed at your promise. “Good. Then it's a deal.” You helped each other up. “Once we find your sketchpad, we'll exchange phone numbers and I'll ring you before I set off searching for my next anomaly. It might not be for a few days yet, this Treepire corpse should keep me busy for a while.”

You stopped yourself from jumping in the air. “Yes! Thank you, Ford! You won't regret it.” You shook his hand enthusiastically, sealing the deal.

He laughed, ecstatic to find someone who was just as excited about these creatures as he was. “Let's get that sketchpad then.”

~*~

Later that night, you sat with your sketchbook ready to recreate the Treepire as a less scary antagonist. Man, the whole concept of a Treepire was surreal. It was like an amateur author had tried way too hard to be original and funny by throwing a bunch of nonsensical rubbish together. Kids would enjoy it though.

You flicked to the page you thought was going to be blank, but instead you found a line of symbols.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/189451747@N05/50156316813/in/dateposted-public/)

“Hm... I don't remember drawing these... Maybe something else in the forest did?” After the day you just had, that wouldn't surprise you.

The symbols seemed harmless enough, so you ignored them and turned the page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the Treepires! I figure we don't have a lot of canon for what exactly is in Journal 1, so I decided to get creative? I'll try to keep things familiar in the future though!


	3. Clover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2012, Stan needs something from you...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this came out quicker than I was expecting.

[2012]  
_Oh, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling_

Stan stirred in his bed.

_From glen to glen, and down the mountain side._

He pulled his pillow over his head.

_The summer's gone, and all the roses falling,_

He reluctantly opened his eyes and started the day scowling (nothing new there). “Kids! Turn that music off!”

_It's you, you must go and I must bide._

“It's not us Grunkle Stan!” Replied Mabel.

Stan grumbled and shuffled out of bed. It did sound as though the music was coming from outside rather than the attic-room. Great. Scratching his lower back, he tugged on the blinds' cord and morning sunshine flooded the room.

He squinted.

**”TOP O' THE MORNIN' TO YA!”**

Gazing up at the Mystery Shack was a rosy cheeked, man-faced horse with a twinkling horn and rainbow beard. _Danny boy_ playing on repeat appeared to be the work of this colourful abomination.

It pooped. The poop was rainbow-coloured.

Stan shut the blinds with an audible “Nope,”.

Then immediately opened them again. Leprechauns were associated with pots of gold. Whatever that thing outside was, was at least _half_ Leprechaun which meant-

“Kids! Get up! I need your help catching this Leprechaun!” Stan didn't bother to get dressed. Who had time for clothes when there was gold to be had?

Dipper rubbed his eyes. “A Leprechaun?” He peered out the triangular window and saw the disturbing hybrid. “Wait, that looks... that's not a Leprechaun, that's a Lepre **corn**! Grunkle Stan, stop!”

Mabel pointed at it, starry eyed. “Look at it's ugly bald man-baby-face! I love it! We should keep it!”

Dipper was already flicking through the journal. “You really want to listen to that song all day every day?”

Mabel narrowed her eyes. How much could she put up with for a Leprecorn friend? No, she had to draw the line at an unending cycle of _Danny boy_. It was a tragic loss, but it had to be done for the greater good.

Stan was already outside in his vest and boxers. Grey hair stuck out at odd ends, but Stan owned the bed-head look. He'd forgone the knuckledusters in the belief it’d be overkill.

He was a giant compared to the stout pony. “Gimme, gimme, gimme,” Stan beamed, a greedy mirth in his eyes.

“OHOHO, WHOA NOW SONNY, WHAT'CHA AFTA?”

Stan recoiled. “You're a really gross stereo type, aren't ya bud?” He shook his head. “Gimme the gold!”

“HOLD YA HORSES, FRIEND, AND I DON'T MEAN ME! I DON'T JUS' GO GIVIN' ME GOLD TO ANYONE.”

Stan rolled his eyes and slouched. “Figures. Alright, what life changing, mystical quest do I have to go on to get it and will it be over by 9am? Gotta store to run here.” Stan gave some crevices a good scratch.

Back in the attic, Dipper read over the Leprecorn page. “Hmm, they don't appear dangerous. The journal just mentions they extremely frustrating and their gold coins are actually plastic. I better tell Stan before he gets his hopes up-"

“Shhhh,” Mabel waved a hand behind her. “Don't. Things just got preeeetty interesting.”

“OHOHO, I LOST ME FOUR LEAF CLOVER NEARBY, THURTY-THOR YEARS AGO! RECLAIM THAT CLOVER AND I'LL SHOWER YA WIT' ME COINS.”

Stan spread his arms. “What?! You've got to be kidding me! How am I supposed to find a leaf you lost-" Then it clicked. He knew exactly who had a four leaf clover and he was willing to bet it was the exact clover this creature was searching for. What luck! “You're, er, gonna wait right here, right?”

The Leprecorn bounced its eyebrows at Gompers the goat, pursing its lips seductively. “OH YEA', I'VE GOT... BUSINESS HERE.”

“Great! But also gross.” Stan ran to the car.

Mabel flailed out of the window. “Grunkle Stan, you need to get dressed!” Stan considered ignoring her advice, but conceded that it was a good idea and dashed back into the shack. “Looks like Stan's hunting for a clover. Do you reckon he knows someone who's got it?” Mabel asked out loud, dropping herself onto the bed so her head hung over the edge.

Dipper shrugged. “Beats me. I can't imagine that someone has kept it safe for _that_ long though.”

~*~

You were at Greasy's diner eating something that somewhat resembled breakfast. The food was fine, but you mainly came for the company. It was quiet for once, which meant you got a chance to catch up with Susan. She was closing her tale about her experience in 'dating' Stan Pines.

“So I decided that I'm just too good for him! Er, no offence there,”

You sipped your drink. “None taken. Whatever was between Stan and I is in the past, so slag him off all you want.” Dating in your 50s meant there was only other people’s exes or widows left. You weren't going to fall out with someone for trying it with Stan.

Although, Susan's version was amusing; plumped up with soap opera drama and over the top monologues. From what you heard from the other side, she had too many cats and was ridiculously obsessed with phoning and leaving voicemails. Ah, classic Sue.

She leaned her wrinkly elbows on the counter and smirked. “Speak of the Devil and he will appear.” She gestured to the door and there stood Stan in all his glory. “I bet he's come to grovel, maybe I'll take him back... If he begs on his knees.” Susan lifted her eyelid to wink at you.

Stan pointed at you from the doorway. “There you are!” Then sprinted over. He planted his large hands on your shoulders, bringing his face close to yours, deadly serious.

“... Stan?”

“Four leaf clover! Gimme!”

“Hm?” You racked your brain. Did you have a four leaf clover? Ah, of course you did. “Er, what do you need it for?”

“Gold!”

You contemplated asking him more questions, but his mind was on one track. All you'd hear from him is urgency about how much he needed this gold and not why or how the clover was needed. “... Alright, I think I have it in my bedroom-"

One of Stan's hands slid down your arm and held onto your wrist. “YES! Let's go toots, no time to waste.”

“Stan, wait-" You nearly tumbled to the ground as he dragged you from the stool. He was going to dislocate your shoulder if he wasn't careful, or your hip throwing you about the place like that.

Susan watched nonchalant. You'd already paid your bill so it was no skin off her nose if you disappeared.

“I'll catch you later!” She said with a wave.

In the car, Stan immediately started to ramble about some weird Leprechaun thing. You never really caught on that what he'd encountered was a 'Leprecorn', or else you would have told him straight that the coins were fake.

As he drove to your house, he was rather giddy.

~*~

Stan stood outside of your bedroom feeling awkward. Your late husband's glare did its usual 'following around the room' trick with Stanley, warning him not to try anything. It made Stan uneasy, but he pushed it aside like he had done for years.

“Stan, could you come here please? I can't reach it.”

“Er, sure.” Stan didn't break eye contact with the photograph until he was completely in your room.

Nostalgia made him grin from ear to ear like an idiot. Your room was a pure reflection of you; bits and pieces from your life presented on shelves and walls. New duvet cover, he noted. A small pile of children's books sat on your dresser. Some you had written, some you had picked up for research.

You turned and smiled at him, sending the roosting butterflies soaring in his stomach. He mimicked your expression. When was the last time he was in this room? A long time ago...

You pointed up high. “On top of the wardrobe. I think I'm shrinking.”

Stan rolled his shoulders and you moved out of his way. “What am I pulling down?” He stuck his hand up top and started to feel around while you stood back and guided him.

“That box- no, that's the baby box, the one next to it is- yes, that's it.”

Stan retrieved the shoe box, complete with a generous layer of dust. You both sat down on the end of your bed and placed the box between you. On the lid were the faded words; MY ADVENTURES.

Stan's stomach churned. He had seen this box just once before. That's how he knew about the clover.

“Gosh, it's been forever since I opened this.” You hesitated. Adventures were behind you now, you were too old and creaky for running around while everything tried to kill you. Passing that baton to Dipper and Mabel was the right decision, even if Stan continued the facade that paranormal activity wasn't real.

You wondered how he was going to explain off the Leprechaun.

“Well, no time like the present...” You grumbled and lifted the lid.

Stan twiddled his thumbs restlessly.

Remnants of days gone by filled the box to the rim. You moved things around and started to take a trip down memory lane. You pulled out a wooden tooth that Stan decided was a fang. You turned it around in your hand, mumbling about the day you first met Stanford. How unbelievable it all was and like a dream-slash-nightmare.

Next you pulled out a patch of plaid. Mostly blue with red and white lines. You rubbed your thumb over the material; still as soft as the day you had sheered it. “Ah, my first encounter with a plaidypus. Truly adorable things. Couldn't hurt a fly. My, Ford and I stalked them for a good while, just gushing over how cute they were. At least, that's what I was doing. Ford was scribbling frantically.”

You began to laugh ever so lightly and Stan, despite himself, smiled forlornly. These were your treasures and each one held an important memory to you. He shouldn't have been surprised that they were all related to Ford-

“Oh! Look here,” You took out an egg and passed it to Stan.

“EW! You kept this?!” He held it far away from him. “That was from that- that weird owl thing, right?”

Your fingers covered your lips, trying to hide what could quite possibly be a youthful giggle. “A Cowl. Yeah, you remember, right? You'd run out of milk and the shops were closed, so I said I knew where to find some.”

Stan grimaced. “You took me into the woods and told me to climb a tree and rob some eggs while you distracted a bird-cow thing. Yeesh, I had nightmares 'bout that for weeks!”

He brought the egg to his ear and gave it a shake. Whatever liquid had been in there was now making a disconcerting _clack clack_ noise as it rattled around the shell. “Was the freshest milk I'd ever had though.”

He carefully put the egg back down and had a rummage through the assorted artefacts himself. A lot had been added to it since he saw the contents; in fact, almost all the new additions were related to him in some way:

The cursed mirror, a ring you both thought was magical but turned out to just be a mood ring, a cinema ticket to a show where you both got sucked into the screen. Etc.

After seeing this, Stanley melted into himself. He was a lot more receptive to your reminiscing about Stanford now, because you also talked about yours and Stan's old escapades. Sure, they weren't always as exciting as yours and Ford's, but they were still apparently special enough to go into the ADVENTURE box.

After losing some time to bittersweet memories, you found what Stan had come for.

You plucked out the pressed and packeted four leaf clover. “Here it is. Ford gave it to me after he conducted an experiment about luck. I think he actually _stole_ the luck from it...” You pouted.

After staring at it longingly, you held it out to Stanley. “I guess... it'll be more useful to you than it is to me. Heh, who wants a four leaf clover with no luck anyway?”

Stan could almost feel the weight of gold in his palms. He did his best not to drool, ready to pass it off as typical old man stuff if he did. His hand hovered above the little plant, ready to snatch it out of your grasp, but he made the mistake of glancing at your face.

 _'... Damn._ Stan thought to himself.

Instead of ripping it from your fingers, he cupped your hand and the clover with both of his. You were so dainty in his large, warm palms. You looked up in confusion and saw the pure sincerity in his eyes.

Stan took a deep breath, not believing what he was about to say; “Nah... you keep this. I'll get the gold outta the bastard another way.”

“... What?”

“You heard me,” His thumb gently stroked the back of your hand. These things were precious to you, he didn't want to be the dick to take any of them away. Not even for gold (but it took every fiber in his body to not subtly slip the clover up his sleeve when you weren't looking).

You were skeptical. “Alright, who are you and what have you done with Stan Pines?”

“Hey, can't I just be the good guy for once?”

You bit your lip as you pretended to consider his words. “Thanks, Stan, but you really can take this if you-”

“Alright! You've twisted my arm! I'll take it off ya hands!”

And he did. He pocketed it faster than lightning. Your hands felt empty without Ford's memento or Stan's hands around yours. You blinked, but didn't stop him. What else did you really expect?

Stan was about to get up and make a run for it, but he stopped himself. He wasn't stealing; he didn't need to run. He should give you a proper thank you.

“Er... Thanks. This means more to me than just the gold,” Stan leaned forward, wetting his lips anxiously. He was going in for your lips but chickened out at the last second and switched to your cheek.

A chaste kiss brushed your skin. Stan smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. His face almost went pink. Almost. You would let it slide this time; but if he thought he was getting back in your giant granny knickers then he can think again!

That ship had sailed.

“Better go and make this deal with the Leprechaun then. He might have left by now-”

“Oh shi-!” Stan leapt up after checking his watch. He had spent too much time at your place. God he hoped Gompers had been playing hard to get. “Seeya!”

You didn't bother seeing him out. Once you heard your front door crash-shut, you let yourself go through all the other keepsakes. Hmmm, perhaps you should have got him to get your daughter's baby box down, so you could feel weepy over that as well.

Oh well. Next time.

~*~

The next day, you went to the Mystery Shack to drop off a variety of wool for Mabel. She had requested them specifically so she could busy herself with sweater-making.

You both sat on the back porch while Mabel cooed over the different colours and thicknesses. “Oh! Thank you so much Old Widow!”

“I have a name...” You grumbled.

“I **love** this shade of burple!”

“Burple?”

“Tch, blue-purple, siiiiiilly.” She booped your nose and there was nothing you could do about it.

“Oh, of course. Sorry, I'm just a bit distracted...” Your eyes pointed towards a tree that had a Leprecorn strapped to it. _Danny boy_ was playing on a loop. “Why is that... I mean...”

“Oh yeah! So, Grunkle Stan went off to find a four leaf clover that the Leprecorn lost. He came back with it and the Leprecorn kept his promise, showering Stan with coins!” Mabel snorted in amusement. “Didn't take long for Uncle Stan to realise he'd been duped! So, he beat the Leprecorn senseless then tied it to a tree as a warning for other not to mess with him.”

You had nothing to say. On the one hand you felt bad for the creature. On the other, they had annoyed the heck out of you and Ford. You squinted; the rainbow-bastard got what he deserved.

Dipper trotted out of the shack with a camera under his arm. “Hey Old Widow. Uncle Stan told me to give you this since I'm heading out.” Dipper handed you an envelope and went into the forest with Soos, muttering about studying and filming anomalies.

“Ooooh! What is it?!” Mabel appeared over your shoulder then yanked the envelope out of your hand. She opened it up on your behalf, despite your very loud protests. “Awwwwww!” Mabel swooned and that worried you.

“What? What is it?”

She handed it to you.

Inside was your four leaf clover. No letter or anything acknowledging he'd given it back to you; just the clover.

You smirked.

__Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling  
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side  
The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying  
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide._ _

__But come ye back when summer's in the meadow  
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow  
'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow  
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so._ _

__And if you come, when all the flowers are dying  
And I am dead, as dead I well may be  
You'll come and find the place where I am lying  
And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me._ _

__And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me_  
And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be  
If you'll not fail to tell me that you love me  
I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me._

__I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me._ _


End file.
